


Hunting for Love

by BarPurple



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Monster Hunters, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:08:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9814697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: The heir of Avonlea is turning eighteen, today her soulmate will be revealed. The kingdom of monster hunters hopes for a strong match for their brave and intelligent Lady, but the magic of the soul mark has different plans.





	1. Chapter 1

The lords and ladies of Avonlea had been monster hunters since time immemorial. It was an accepted fact that the heir of Sir Maurice would continue in the noble obligation of ridding the realm of evil creatures. There was no concern that Maurice’s sole heir was a daughter, his dearly departed wife Colette had given her life to destroy the Edderkop that had terrorised the local forest. Neither the fighting prowess in her heritage, nor her own proven battle record was in question; but Lady Belle was considered a little unusual. She was strong and able, but the quickness of her body was outstripped by the sharpness of her mind; she questioned everything, and Maurice had indulged her curiosity by training her brain as much as her brawn. It was rumoured that the Lady Belle had more tutors then any intellectual in the realm; an exaggeration, but not by much.

For the past six generations heirs to the seat of Avonlea had relied on soul marks to choose their spouse. The practise had fallen out of fashion in the rest of the Enchanted Forest, but in Avonlea where the frivolity of courtship was considered a distraction from training and battle it was the best way to secure a helpmate and ensure the succession. At dawn on her eighteenth birthday Lady Belle would undergo the fairy ritual that would reveal the heraldic device of her intended. The announcement which would be sent out across the land was a formality, anyone who suddenly woke to find a soul mark on their skin in the form of the heir’s device would hurry to the castle. In truth word very rarely had to be sent further than the great hall, since in the weeks before the birthday of the heir most of the likely candidates would gather at the castle.

With only hours to go before the ritual Maurice visited his daughter. He didn’t even bother looking for her in her chambers; instead he made directly for the library, and found Belle with her nose in a book.

“Belle?”

“Hum? Oh, hello Papa.”

She marked the page in her book and smiled at him.

“You should be preparing for the ritual Belle.”

He knew she’d just managed to hold back a sigh, he was one of the few in the castle for whom she would temper her exasperation.

“How much preparation do I need to stand still while the fairies throw Pixie Dust at me?”

Maurice chuckled at her and eased himself into a chair by her window seat. A few months back he’d been thrown from his horse during a battle with a flock of harpies; there was a lingering stiffness about him that he brushed off as nothing but age.

“The best advice I can give you is to take a breath before they throw the dust. Sneezing on your patron fairy is frowned upon.”

Belle laughed with him, she’d heard the tale of her father’s own ritual since she was a child. He leaned forward and caught her hand in his.

“All will be well, my darling daughter.”

He rose slowly and left her to her reading, meditation was traditional at this point, by the written word would calm Belle’s spirit and focus her mind better than navel gazing.  
Belle watched him go, a nagging doubt about his injury made her wonder if having a word with the physician would do any good. Her eyes drifted to the hour glass on the far wall, it was time for the only preparation she cared about. She took the small vial of potion she’d painstakingly made and flipped the cork stopper from the neck.

“All will be well.”

She downed the clear liquid in one gulp and grimaced at the bitter aftertaste. The potion didn’t have the most pleasing taste, but it would ensure that there could be no outside interference in the choosing of her soulmate.

The Blue Fairy would hotly deny that there was any way to influence the soul mark ritual; she’d go on at length about the purity of fairy magic, and the bond of true souls, but for anyone willing to look through the record books the evidence was glaringly obvious. There were plenty of times when the ritual conveniently arranged a match with the strongest ally, or best political allegiance. Those matches never were quite as successful for the people involved, no matter how their families and kingdoms benefited. Belle didn’t want that for her match. She wanted no less than the real deal; a true soulmate. Thanks to the little potion she’d researched and brewed up in secret the ritual would either reveal her true soulmate, or none at all and she would be free to choose as she pleased. 

 

With less than an hour to go before dawn there was an excited buzz in the great hall. Hunters from across the realm had gathered in the hopes that one of them would feel the burn of a matching soul mark as Lady Belle’s ritual was performed. Some were more confident than others; Sir Gaston had been strutting around with his usual swagger declaring to all who would listen that he felt it in his gut that he would be wed before lunchtime.

“It’s is obvious, such a skilled hunter as I will be the perfect match for the Lady Belle.”

Sir Graham rolled a crust of bread from his breakfast between his fingers.

“The Lady is a great reader, how do you compare Gaston?”

The question sounded polite, but there was an undertone to it that the surrounding hunters picked up on; it was a well-known fact that Gaston deplored books. The burly hunter snorted derisively.

“There is nothing in books worth knowing. When Lady Belle and I are wed I will change her opinion on her frivolous pursuit.”

Several of the men at the table raised disbelieving eyebrows, but once again it was the softly spoken Graham who offered a counter opinion.

“Many of us would have fallen in the fight against the kraken had it not been for Lady Belle’s book learnt knowledge.”

It was a statement of truth. Avonlea was a costal kingdom, but it had been generations since one of the deep sea beasts reared its head and attacked the shoreline. Lady Belle’s extensive reading provided the hunting party with the tactics that their forebears had used to vanquish the monsters in the past. Gaston’s brow furrowed, he could not dispute the result, nor where the credit lay without insulting Lady Belle and her father. He settled for a change of subject.

“How long until dawn?”

His answer came in the form of ringing bells signalling the sun cresting the horizon. The ritual was about to begin. The hunters left the tables and lined the central approach to the dais. Quiet fell in the hall as Lady Belle entered the hall. Her left shoulder and breast were bare ready for the soul mark. Gaston leered at her and likely would have made a crude comment if his friend Le Fou hadn’t have elbowed him in the ribs to remind him of the solemnity of the occasion. Belle turned to face the assembled hunters and waited. As the first light of dawn lit the open doorway of the great hall the Blue Fairy appeared. Belle took a fast breath and held it as the pixie dust was blown over her. Only she saw the frown on the face of the Blue Fairy. For a moment it appeared that the ritual had failed, then Belle bit her lip as a burning pain began under her left collarbone. The searing sensation trickled down her breast, she kept her eyes forward, it was supposed to be bad luck to look until the Blue Fairy announced the form of the soul mark, but she couldn’t help scanning the faces in the hall looking for a reaction from one of the men. No face betrayed the slightest hint that a mark was forming, in fact several heads were turning to cast glances at their fellows.

The Blue Fairy gave a little gasp and hesitated before raising her arms and announcing; “A spinning wheel.”

A hushed whisper broke the stunned silence as some of the older hunters murmured a name that had not been spoken in this hall for near a decade.

Far away in the Frontlands a spinner was tending to his small flock of sheep in the pre-dawn light. He hissed through his teeth at the sudden pain on the left side of his chest, for a horrible moment he worried that his heart was failing him, but the discomfort past quickly. He pulled open his shirt and swore softly to himself. He finished tending to his animals before stepping back into his one room hut. He’d not had use for a looking glass for years and it took him time to dig the small hand mirror from the bottom of his old travel chest. The image it reflected made him hang his head and swear again. It had been a very long time since he’d seen this rose device, but he recognized it for what it was; a soul mark. The heir of Avonlea must have turned eighteen today. He caught sight of his weather beaten face in the glass there was no way the Lady had spent last night dreaming of this face. Rumplestiltskin threw his head back and laughed at the bizarre turn his life had just taken.


	2. Chapter 2

There was much muttering in the great hall, the younger hunters were looking to their elders for the story behind the name that was being whispered with either reverence or distaste. Belle tried to catch some of what was being said, but people fell silent as Maurice and the Blue Fairy ushered her past them and into an antechamber. Belle knew she had heard the unusual name of her soulmate before, but she was having trouble recalling where and when. As she fastened her dress over the spinning wheel mark she realised she had seen this device before. She didn’t have a chance to question her father about it as the moment the chamber door was closed the Blue Fairy whirled in front of her face and jabbed an accusing finger at her.

“What do you do, you silly girl?”

Belle held her ground and returned the Blue Fairy’s glare.

“I took a potion to ensure that there would be no outside guidance in the selection of my soulmate.”

The fairy snarled at her in frustration, but Belle noticed she did not deny that the ritual could be interfered with; she wondered who the fairy had selected as her spouse, politically Sir James might have been wise, although she had a sneaking suspicion that perhaps Sir Gaston’s father had bribed the Blue Fairy somehow, (but that idea might have been founded on her general distaste for the family Legume). 

Her father quietly enquired; “What can be done about this, Blue?” 

The fairy sighed heavily, her tone becoming gentler as she spoke to Maurice.

“Nothing at all. He is her soulmate, of course they cannot wed.”

Belle had never once read of an instant where soulmates were denied marriage. Her patience, always in short supply with the Blue Fairy, was close to running out, but she managed to keep herself from shouting.

“And why not?”

Her father reached to place a soothing hand on her arm.

“Belle, no hunter will follow you if you are wed to Rumplestiltskin. He is a coward and an outcast.”

“But the village of Burrworth displays his device in a place of honour.”

The little village in the east of Avonlea was the only place Belle had seen her soul mark before. The spinning wheel was carved into the door lintel of the village hall beneath that of the chief of the village, a true honour for someone who was not kin of the chief. Maurice picked at his thumbnail and glanced at Blue. The fairy shrugged, accepting that this story needed to be told, but her face made it clear that she wasn’t happy with the turn of events. Maurice took a deep breath and began to relate the tale of the village of Burrworth for his daughter.

“Ten years ago there was a pack of ogres marauding through the land. Burrworth was in their path, and that was the place we mounted our main attack. At some point during the first wave Rumplestiltskin’s wife and child were killed. He went berserk, killed two ogres single-handed with only a sword.”

Belle’s eyebrows jumped in surprise. It was a rare feat to kill one ogre with only a sword, long range weapons like a bow and arrow were better against the creatures. For Rumplestiltskin to have killed two in such a way and survived was a miracle. Normally such a triumph would be sung about for generations to come. Belle chewed her lip as she waited for her father to deliver the worst of his tale.

“After the battle Sir Clarence was found with a dagger in his back; Rumplestiltskin’s dagger. He would neither admit nor deny the charge of murder. There was no evidence suggesting it had been a deliberate attack on Sir Clarence, but the other hunters became wary around Rumplestiltskin. How could you trust a hunter to have your back if he was likely to stick a dagger in it? A week or so later he was simply gone, no one knew where and no one was too concerned to look for him.”

While she processed this information, Belle asked a question that had been niggling at her since the ritual.

“And his name doesn’t appear in any of the record books because…”

Maurice grimaced and nodded wearily: “Yes, his name was struck from the records.”

Belle made a sound of displeasure. Four years ago she had persuaded her father to stop the practise of magically altering the records if a hunter fell out of favour. In her opinion it was a ridiculous practise that only led to muddles and the loss of vital information. With an overly cheery smile she turned to Blue.

“Would you be kind enough to wave you wand and return my soulmate’s name and deeds to the records, please.”

Blue gave a haughty sniff; “I don’t think there is any need to rush in to such a rash act. There is every chance he will not dare to show his face here.”

Belle laughed lightly; “He is my soulmate, I suspect one of the traits we share is curiosity. He will come.”

 

By his calculation Rumplestiltskin had three days before riders from Avonlea made it to the Frontlands. The news of the heir’s soulmate would probably arrive faster than that, so he made ready for a journey. A neighbour was happy to take care of his small flock for him. He didn’t reveal much about his destination when asked where he was going, just gave a vague answer about needing to attend to some business that would keep him from home for a few weeks. That was enough to satisfy the man’s curiosity for now, there’d been more questions asked once the riders arrived, but by then Rumplestiltskin would be well on his way to Avonlea. He wasn’t worried about the questions the riders would ask, he hadn’t used his real name since he left Burrworth, so it was unlikely that anyone would connect Robert Spinner with Rumplestiltskin the infamous hunter.

It felt strange to be travelling again. He’d not gone further than the village since he settled here almost a decade ago. Walking this road in the opposite direction all those years ago he’d felt the weight of the ghosts he carried with him every step of the way. He’d never stopped thinking about his family, but time had eased the pain of their loss. Now returning to Avonlea he felt the guilt and anger seeping to the surface of his thoughts once more. During the day it was easier to push down the memories of Milah and Bae, or to focus on happier times before Burrworth. At night their bloated, blackened faces haunted his dreams. After waking screaming from one such nightmare he’d decided to avoid inns, disrupting other travellers rest brought too much attention. His second night on the road he made camp in the lee of a small knoll just as dusk was falling. The sound of footsteps on the road put him on alert, his hand hoovering above the hilt of the small dagger he wore at his belt as a voice from the gathering gloom called out; “May I approach your fire, traveller?”

“Aye step into the light, traveller.”

The man walked into the circle of firelight, his hood thrown back and his hands raised at shoulder height, his empty palms facing Rumplestiltskin. It had been years but Rumplestiltskin recognized a hunter when he met one, even if he didn’t know the wolf device on the man’s tunic. He made an open gesture of welcome with his hands.

“My hearth, such as it is, is yours.”

The hunter hunkered down by the flames and warmed his hands. He sat in a half crouch, a battle ready posture Rumplestiltskin himself had been using until the man approached. It wouldn’t do his cover any good to appear trained in such matters, so he eased himself to sit cross legged by the fire.

“Thank you traveller, I am Sir Graham.”

For an instant Rumplestiltskin almost gave this man the name he’d used in the Frontlands, Spinner, but decided that a little distance between the soul mark the Lady Belle now wore would be a sensible idea.

“Robert Shepherd. You travel without a horse, sir?”

Graham chuckled softly; “I get on well with all many of creatures, excepting horses. I spend more time falling from the saddle than in it.”

“Ah, best to walk in the first place then.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments. The young hunter clearly wasn’t a chatterbox, but Rumplestiltskin felt he should ask a few typical questions an ordinary traveller might have for a hunter.

“Is there aught on the road to Avonlea I should worry about, sir?”

“No, all is peaceful, Shepherd. I only travel to spread word of the heir’s soulmate.”

“The Lady Belle has come of age, how time flies. I expect I’ll arrive in time for the wedding celebrations.”

Graham gave another soft chuckle; “I expect you’ll arrive before the groom.”

“He wasn’t at the ritual?”

“No, nor has he been seen for a decade past.”

Rumplestiltskin gave a look of passable surprise; “That would cause a problem for the wedding,” He paused, he had to ask the question, the absence of it would look suspicious, “What is the name of the missing groom?”

“Rumplestiltskin.”

It was bizarre to hear his real name spoken and not be able to react to it. He nodded and gave a shrug; “Well with name like that he should be easy enough to find.”

A branch shifted in the fire and sent up a burst of sparks making Graham’s eyes appear to glow red for a second. 

“I think he’ll only be found when he’s good and ready. Shall I take first watch, Shepherd?”

Rumplestiltskin shook his head; “Nay sir, you rest I’ll keep watch.”

Graham rolled himself in his cloak by the fire. Rumplestiltskin couldn’t shake the feeling that the sleeping hunter knew exactly who’s fire he was sharing.


	3. Chapter 3

The Blue Fairy had grudgingly accompanied Belle to the Hall of Records and cast the magic to restore Rumplestiltskin’s name and deeds to the history books. She was clearly unhappy about it; the magic that shimmered around her was a darker blue, a sure sign of her annoyance. Belle began to thumb through the pages; she’d learnt long ago that patience was not a quality the Blue Fairy possessed in great quantities. When met with silence she would snap and reveal more than she intended.

“No good will come of this union.”

Belle schooled her features into a neutral mask and continued flipping through the pages. She did not look at Blue as she calmly said; “You frequently remind us that your magic is light. Why would it be wrong about my soulmate?”

She knew she’d struck a nerve by the angry ripple of Blue’s wings. The fairy gave a haughty sniff.

“Men like Rumplestiltskin poison even the purest magic.”

As the fairy fluttered away Belle experienced a moment of doubt. When her father had recounted the brief history of Burrworth she had been sure that there was more to the tale, but Blue’s words made her question her instinctive response. What if her soulmate was a murderer? To kill another hunter in cold blood was a foul deed, had there been sufficient proof against him her father would have executed him on the spot as the law demanded. There had been cases in the past where a hunter had fallen on his sword after accidently killing one of their fellows, but Rumplestiltskin had chosen silence and to walk away rather than the honourable route into the arms of Death. This man was her soulmate, what did his actions say about her?

Belle shook herself. She was letting Blue get under her skin. There had only been suspicion and circumstantial evidence against Rumplestiltskin as Sir Clarence’s killer. The fairy was simple irritated that whatever schemes she had laid had been disrupted. Belle had seen from an early age how Blue employed manipulation to achieve her ends, she refused to be prejudiced against Rumplestiltskin. She settled herself in a chair and began to read to learn what she could about her soulmate until he arrived. She read throughout the day as the subdued celebration for the soulmate ritual continued in the great hall.

 

As the day wore on many hunters left, the monsters that stalked the land cared nothing for ritual or scandal. The great hall was half empty come the noon meal, and full of hushed conversations regarding the soulmate. Not all were keeping their voices low. 

“Who is this Spinner and what could possibly make him a better match than I for the Lady Belle?”

Gaston had been so certain that the rose device would burn on his chest this morning. He wasn’t such a fool as to reveal the correspondence that had passed between the Blue Fairy and his father over the past year. Blue had never explicitly promised that he was to be the heir’s match, but the signs had been in his favour. Of course he had no proof of his expectations, Blue had been careful with her words, and any suggestion that the ritual had been rigged would raises questions he did not want to answer. It irked him more that he’d been robbed of his opportunity to be Lord of Avonlea by a hunter he had never even heard of before.

The table was filled with younger hunters; Merida was the first to offer what she knew of the man with the spinning wheel device.

“My father tells me he was a great hunter in his day, but that was before the Battle of Burrworth.”

Gaston’s brow drew into a frown; “Don’t you hail from Burrworth Graham?”

All heads turned to the quiet hunter. Graham took his time in finishing his mouthful of food before replying.

“Aye, but my family was not present for the battle.”

Gaston slapped the table in frustration; “Well, you’re no help to me!”

Graham gave a casual shrug and took his leave. Merida watched him; it occurred to her that he’d never said he didn’t know of Rumplestiltskin or the battle that brought his shame. She smiled to herself and considered slipping away after him. She dismissed the idea almost as soon as she had it; there was no way she could follow Graham without his knowledge.

 

Belle was getting frustrated with the histories. The more entries about Rumplestiltskin she read the more questions she had. According to the records he was a foundling child who had been taken in by a family of hunters when he was around seven, so his heritage and real age were unknown. He was described as short of stature and softly spoken, but a fiend in battle. He had proven himself exceptional at hunting, yet there was no Blessing listed for him. 

Generations of hunting magical creatures had seeped into the blood of hunters and left them with abilities that were beyond the norm, they were collectively known as Blessings, although ordinary folk considered some of them closer to curses. Belle’s was her understanding of languages, her father’s Blessing was his potion skill; Merida had her family’s shapeshifting ability; Graham could talk to wolves and track like them, clan MacGyver could build traps and weapons from anything around them; Gaston’s family were Blessed with strength. Belle could list the Blessings of every hunter in the realm for the past three generations, and yet her soulmate apparently had none. 

She was beginning to think the Blue had deliberately left gaps in the restored information, well, there were other ways to find out what she wanted to know, Sir Carel had worked closely with Rumplestiltskin perhaps he could fill in some of these gaps for her. A quick word with a servant and Belle was heading out to the stables hoping to catch Sir Carel before he set off.

“Greetings Lady Belle!”

Sir Carel did not rise from his seat on the bench outside the stable, it might have appeared rude, but Belle appreciated his gesture; Sir Carel stood over seven feet tall and at only five two Belle often found his looming presence gave her a crick in the neck.

“Greetings Sir Carel. Might I sit and talk with you a while?”

“Aye, I rather thought you’d have some questions for me, hence my being out here away from the crowd of curious souls in the great hall.”

She smiled her thanks at his consideration and sat down.

“What can you tell me about Rumplestiltskin?”

The giant of a man took a slow breath, his eyes gazing unseeing at the horizon.

“The Rumplestiltskin I knew was a good man, an outstanding hunter, a loving husband and father. After Milah and Bae were found dead he snapped. You’ve been in battles Lady, you’ve seen how they can change a person, but never have I seen a change as devastating as that which overcame Rumplestiltskin.”

Belle wasn’t sure what to say, so she held her peace while Carel gathered his thoughts.

“Rumple and Milah were a love match, rare among hunters I know, but they were, and they loved their boy, Baelfire, a bright boy who had his whole life before him. The records might say Milah and Bae died at the ogres’ hands, but I saw the bodies when Rumple pulled them from their house, I know what the bite of a Speckled Band Viper looks like.”

Belle frowned; “They were killed by a snake?”

“Aye. And to answer the question you’ve not yet asked I believe Rumple laid the blame on Sir Clarence and that’s why he killed him.”

“You don’t doubt the Rumplestiltskin killed Clarence in cold blood?”

Carel gave her a hard look; “If Clarence was to blame for the deaths of his wife and child I guarantee that Rumple’s blood was anything but cold when he wielded his dagger.”

“But if there was reason why did he not defend himself? Why just walk away and leave all these unanswered questions?”

Carel’s great shoulders moved in a shrug; “Grief takes us all differently.”

Belle had much to think on, but before she left she asked one more question; “There is no record of Rumplestiltskin’s Blessing, do you know what it is?”

“I can’t help you on that my Lady. The fairies will tell you he has none, but any who have fought shoulder to shoulder with him will tell you he has anything from Foresight to Invisibility and everything in between. Until Burrworth I believed Fortune herself smiled on him, afterwards, well…”

She gave him her thanks and walked thoughtfully away. Sir Carel watched her go not envying the weight on her mind, he wasn’t sure that her burden would be eased with the arrival of Rumplestiltskin.


	4. Chapter 4

Graham shook the shepherd awake with the first light of dawn. Their morning rituals were conducted in silence, broken only by the occasional cough or snort. By the time Graham threw a pinch of tea leaves into the water boiling over the fire both men were more awake. The shepherd traded some dried fruit for a mug of tea and they broke their fast.

“Where do you head now Sir Hunter?”

“North to look for signs of the Soulmate.”

Shepherd nodded and tipped the dregs of his tea on to the ground.

“Safe journey Sir Hunter.”

“And to you Shepherd.”

Graham had been planning to reveal that he knew the man’s true identity last night, but a deep instinct told him that such matters were best left until the light of day, now he held back out of curiosity, and a desire to see where Rumplestiltskin would go now. He stayed by the fire for half an hour before tamping the ashes out and heading in the direction the shepherd had taken.

His gift had always been tracking; monsters, beasts or humans none could evade him; none apart from Rumplestiltskin, whose trail vanished into thin air several miles from the camp. Graham closed his eyes and centred himself with some deep breathing; it wasn’t possible that his gift had failed him, even when magic was used to obscure a trail he could find some hint to lead the way. There was nothing, according to his senses nothing larger than a rabbit had passed this way in hours, so the hand in his hair and the knife at his throat came as quite the surprise. 

“I’ll tell you this laddie; you are one hell of a tracker.”

The burr of the accent was a give-away, he’d found the man he’d been following, or rather Rumplestiltskin had found him. Graham slowly raised his hands into a position of acquiescence, considering the blade at his throat he didn’t feel threated, but that was no reason to be rash.

“I thought I was a good tracker, but you didn’t have any problem giving me the slip.”

He was answered with a snort and the grip on his hair relaxed. Rumplestiltskin stepped into view, still keeping the knife at in place at Graham’s throat. His tilted his head and scrutinized Graham’s features.

“Have we met before last night?”

Graham smiled; “I have grown much in twelve years. I’m no longer the scrawny squire who ran around Burrworth with Baelfire on his heels.”

Realization bloomed on Rumplestiltskin’s face, the dagger in his hand pulled slowly away from Graham’s throat. He saw hints of the boy that his son had idolised in the man before him, but he didn’t trust that he wasn’t simply wishing to see a reminder of his beloved child. Very slowly the young hunter pushed back his left sleeve, revealing a curving scar that ran from his wrist up towards his elbow.

“I got this the day Baelfire hid in the stable loft. He stumbled on a wasps nest up there and knocked a sickle down onto my arm. He decided he wanted to be a healer as he watched me getting stitched up.”

“Ham?”

Rumplestiltskin remembered that day; Bae had been bouncing between contrite for hurting his friend, and excited at the healing he’d seen. 

“That was the year your family took to the road. Bae worked so hard to learn his letters so he could write to you, learned how to write your name before his own because he said that came first on a letter.” 

The bittersweet memory of his boy brought a tear to Rumplestiltskin’s eye. He dashed it away and said; “It’s good to see you again Ham.”

“I go by my full name these days.”

“Of course, Graham. A full hunter now too. Why did you follow me?”

Graham shrugged; “To see what you would do.”

Rumplestiltskin finally sheathed his dagger; “I’m going to Avonlea. I believe it would be best for me to go alone, you don’t want your name associated with a disgraced hunter.”

Graham fiddled with his cuff as he settled his sleeve back into place, he gave a sniff and met Rumplestiltskin’s eyes with a small smile; “If I thought you were actually guilty of the crime that led to your disgrace than I would be wary, but as it is, I will stand by your side as you clear your name.”

The older hunter tensed as he regarded the hand of friendship the younger man was offering him. 

“I’m not sure what will come to be, this could end very badly for the both of us.”

“We are hunters; the only sure thing in life is death.”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled and clasped Graham’s hand in his own. It felt good to have a fellow in arms once more, “Thank you Sir Graham.”

“It is my honour, Sir Rumplestiltskin.”

A dozen miles away in Avonlea the Blue Fairy shivered and frowned at Sir Garrick and his son Sir Gaston, “The Soulmate has been found, we don’t have much time.”


End file.
